Of Nightmares and Clicks
by CJcraziness
Summary: Awaking late one night, Mycroft realises he has a visitor... a nightmarish one at that. -Post Myriarty-


_Click._

The click awoke Mycroft from his dreams, his fantasies and the wildest of things. Thoughts that would never escape his mind, his mouth and stay hidden forever, unrefined. He blinked slowly and scrunched up his blue eyes in the darkness which took so long to fade and adjust. When the darkness was only faint he sat up to await his fate. The shadows lapped up the room and the corners were still filled with the eerie gloom. Though the gloom caused paranoia to arise and he was aware of the many eyes... something was there in the dark, staring at him from afar.

The glint of moonlight hit something red, the red moved out of the dark until it resurfaced again... Was he still dreaming...? What had he just seen? The strip of moonlight fell over more: grey skin, dark murderous orbs and a bright red mouth. The monster caught in the light was animalistic... inhuman... not right. The orbs: unnatural, tainted black and pupils unseen. Blood red lips grew wide showing gleaming pointed teeth, a feral smile. The creature slinked forward and he could hear the crunching of the carpet as it inched closer. Mycroft's breathing was heavier now as he stared at the demonic thing with wide, unblinking eyes. Under the covers of his bed, his hand moved to seize hold of a weapon he kept under his pillow, a handgun. It would halt his monster. It would kill it!

He grasped hold of the gun as the grey beast crept closer revealing more of itself. The light had passed it, only the form could now be gazed upon. It was upright, small and slim... the blankness seemed to blend with it. It paced forward one step at a time; over minutes it had only moved a meter. The figure tinted its head from side to side, swivelling its slander neck until it trained its black orbs on Mycroft and bore into his eyes. The grin that crept onto it's face could almost be heard and the grinding of teeth echoed as the form now had reached the end of the king-sized bed where Mycroft was sat.

This was when Mycroft became very afraid, but he had had enough and pulled out his gun. He cocked it back and aimed at the creature, it halted, lifting its head and glared manically. That glare was familiar... only one had such a empty but manic expression. The creature in front of him was nothing but a creature. It was a man... a crazy and dangerous one at that.

Mycroft's eyes were focused now, the man in front of him was peachy-pale skinned; dark, murky eyes with murderous intent and crimson lips in which dried blood had dripped out his mouth and ran down his chin. Brown hair was combed back and looked wet but at closer glance it was damp with blood, which also had travelled down his face. The man was dressed in a grey suit also covered in crimson... The figure was covered almost from head to toe in blood! Who's blood? He did not know but he did recognise the man. He was meant to be dead.

"Moriarty..!" He whispered.

The man inclined his head to the side as if confused by the name. He leaped onto the bed with feline grace and crawled forward until he was gazing down the barrel of the gun. The wild man licked his blood stained lips before baring his teeth. Mycroft sat frozen and did nothing as the small, manic, meant-to-be-dead man took the gun from his hands and placed it out of reach.

"Mycroft." Moriarty all but growled, a low feral growl at that. He moved even closer so he was nearing to straggling the other man's lap. He invaded Mycroft's personal space and glared deeply in the fearful and perplexed pale, blue eyes. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times and it took some time before Mycroft spoke again.

"Why... what are you doing here?" He squeaked, he hadn't realised how high his voice was and so cleared his throat. Though he couldn't blame himself too much, he was talking to a man he had believed dead for more than two years.

Moriarty reached out and dragged his blood-caked nails over the other man's cheek before frowning for a short second. Mycroft found it hard not to flinch away as the small man took his chin in his hands forcing their eyes to meet. He didn't want to look into those eyes... he had not seen them in years, he had missed them but he did not believe they were real. He bit his lip as the blood soaked man leaned nearer and put their foreheads together.

"I missed you." The whisper was angry, threatening and sincere all at once. It was a declaration. He exhaled loudly and the hot breathe tingled Mycroft's face. It smelt of mint and metal combined. Unusual. He blinked as he processed the short statement, it didn't seem to make sense... The dead man had left him, why would he had missed him?

"You... missed me?" He said and gulped as the other man's eyes grew black with fury. Moriarty pushed him down and sat on his stomach. Pinning him down and restraining his wrists. His grip was rough and painful but Mycroft didn't call out or show anymore fear then was already unearthed.

"Yes. I. Missed. You. I will not say it again." He towered over the Mycroft. The glint in his eyes was dangerous and the way he licked his crimson lips suggestively made the other man squirm, he felt like prey caught in a hunter's trap. He wanted to escape. Then again... he didn't.

Moriarty lowered his head and drug his slick lips along his cheek and exposed neck; Mycroft didn't want to admit the touch was slightly pleasant. He had missed the madman's touch. A gasp escaped his lips as sharp teeth dug into the flesh on his neck. The teeth moved and lips sucked the skin leaving a bloody and bruised mark. The teeth moved up his neck and to his ear. A deep, arousing voice muttered into his ear, yet the words were anything but...

"I should kill you!" There was a razor-sharp bite on his ear lobe. Mycroft's eyes widened and he attempted to push the man off him. So, he returns from the dead to kill him, how wonderful. 'I missed you so I will kill you, is that it?' The mind of James Moriarty was a hard one to follow.

_Click..._

Mycroft stared down the barrel of a gun that appeared in the maniac's hand, it was not his own but it just appeared and it was cocked back. Moriarty grinned insanely as his eyes now filled madness. Then again he was always mad.

"I should kill you..." He repeated almost inaudible. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. His finger ghosted over the trigger and Mycroft shut his eyes slowly, accepting his fate. He wasn't sure why he was going to be killed, but accepted it nonetheless. There was little escape here and now. For all he knew, this could be a nightmare where his past lover comes to kill him. Dreams can be ridiculously cruel that way. The barrel was pressed to his forehead and he exhaled as smoothly as he could. It did show a hint of his fear... but not much. Moriarty's finger curled tight on the trigger and pulled...

_Click..._

The gun was empty. No bullets.

"But I don't want too..." The whisper returned, sincere and truthful.

Mycroft's eyes flew open and the gun was gone. Moriarty's face hovered over his; his lips so near to his own. The lips closed the gap. Brushing against his own, gentle at first... but within seconds the lips moved and the kiss evolved into sucking, biting and more. Moriarty's hand tugged on Mycroft's hair, bringing their heads even closer, holding them in place. Their mouths moulded together perfectly as the intensity of the kiss increased, Mycroft's now free hands wrapped around the smaller man's shoulders forcing them to press against each other more as his other hand thrust into his bloody hair. Moriarty's sucked on the older man's bottom lip and he gasped, and so he seized the opportunity. His quicksilver tongue slid into Mycroft's mouth and he groaned. The kissing continued until Mycroft broke it off, they both leaned back breathing heavily. It had been a long time since that had happened, years since. Moriarty licked his kiss-swollen lips and gazed with darkened eyes, but the emotions were not rage, anger or hatred... they were lust, want and arousal.

He leaned forward for another heated kiss, but it didn't last long as Mycroft broke them apart again, moving to sit up. His head rested against the headboard as he stared with wanting eyes as well. He did want but he did not understand the scene he was in... why was Moriarty back? Why has he returned now? Why didn't he tell him he was alive?

"You still have not said why you are here?" He started.

Moriarty bent down, placing another kiss on his cheek. He murmured his response onto his skin.

"I wanted to see you." It didn't answer Mycroft's question enough and so he pursued.

"You are meant to be dead. You cannot just wander back here and think everything is fine!" Mycroft's voice rose, his patience thinning... it was four o'clock in the morning according to his watch and there was a man who was meant to be dead sitting on his lap, he had enough excuses to be irritated.

Moriarty frowned. "You thought I was dead...? I'm disappointed in you. I thought you would have more faith in my abilities. Oh well, That's in the past now. But I'm back...! Did you miss me?" He grinned and his eyes widened with enthusiasm.

"It's been over two years... I did think you were dead. I got on with life and realised I did not need to act like a broken hearted fool, which I'll admit I was. When you killed yourself, it did break my heart... I thought when you and my brother went up onto that roof, you would have lost and surrendered. Yet, that is what sentiment does... it ridicules the mind. I remembered why caring was not an advantage once again."

Moriarty's face fell as he seemed to comprehend some of the damage caused, but he was determined not to feel bad as the grin reappeared on his face again seconds later. "Did you miss me though?"

Mycroft practically growled. "What do you think, James?"

"Oh you did. You did, you did, you did." Moriarty chuckled.

"It was not a laughing matter." Mycroft said in a monotone voice.

"Of course it is Mycroft... It's hilarious. You didn't use your brain and became heart broken... you're such a doofus." He said in such a childish tone.

Mycroft had enough, he pushed the younger man off and jumped on top of him with his long fingers resting on his neck. His glare was threatening and intimidating, if it was anyone other than Moriarty on the receiving of it, they would be quivering right now. His face became almost emotionless and his voice serious and cold... his usual business voice, though the fake politeness was nowhere to be heard.

"James, you are testing my patience. You will answer my questions or I will kill you with my bare hands." His lips curled at the end of the statement, indicating his seriousness and delight of the threat.

"Oh, feisty are we, Mycroft?" This earned him a tightening of fingers, as Mycroft's hands gently squeezed around his neck.

"No. Just serious. Will you answer my questions willingly?"

"Yes, my dear. Play your game."

"I do not play games." His grip tightened and Moriarty was breathing slightly more coarsely now. "Why are you back?"

Moriarty huffed out a breathe. "Are you deaf now? I said: I wanted to see you and I missed you. Isn't that enough?"

"And that is a adequate reason for appearing tonight? I warned my brother he would be not be welcomed kindly when he returned. He did not agree... You seem to think just like him in that regard. I am not entirely happy you are here."

"You loved me though. You should be overjoyed Mycroft. I'm back... And everyone knows it."

"Unfortunately, I am not overjoyed. Why did you tell the world you are back?"

"Oh you know... Just for you." He smiled and gazed calmly into Mycroft's cold eyes.

"Pardon?" It was clear he was confused.

"I've been bored... and I came back for you. Sherlock would have died. Now he won't. And I can see you now." A sly grin slid onto his face. His eyes shone mischievously.

"You came back because you are bored? Bored doing what?"

"Hiding in the shadows. It's so boring. Disappearing was fun for a while... tricking everyone and doing whatever I wanted but life became ordinary. I hate ordinary."

Mycroft tried not to roll his eyes. "I know you hate ordinary, James." He said and his grip loosened the smallest amount.

"But I'm back now. Life won't be ordinary anymore. It will be fun." Moriarty said in his sing-song tone.

"How do you know that?"

"I have you. I have Sherlock to mess with. I have London as a playground." He announced almost proudly.

"What makes you think I will allow you to try and hurt Sherlock again?" The serious monotone voice slipped in as Sherlock was mentioned.

"Oh... I won't hurt him. I'll just keep him busy so he won't need to go away."

Mycroft hummed and considered it before moving on to the next question, one he wasn't sure he would like the answer to.

"Why are you covered in blood?"

Moriarty beamed and he smirked. "I killed people... and their blood has ruined my suit."

"Why did you kill them?"

"Because I wanted to!" His eyes grew wide and sinister as he shouted out his words. Mycroft uncontrollably flinched as he stared at the madman.

"Why, James?"

"They wanted to kill me... So, I killed them first. Is that a sexier answer?"

"I wouldn't call it sexy, no. If this was self defence I do not believe you would be covered in so much blood. You practically bathed in it." Mycroft scoffed.

"I had to kill a lot of people. People were getting to me, no one is allowed to get to me and so they needed to die. I just made it entertaining." Seriousness seeped into his voice. Mycroft seemed to be becoming uneasy. "That doesn't matter now. I'm here with you. Stop your game and kiss me already!"

"No, James. I may have missed you but I don't love you anymore. I will not let you get in my head again." Mycroft said sternly.

"No... You're wrong. You still love me... you do, admit it. Admit it!"

"My head is clear now. I do not."

Moriarty was getting annoyed now, in one move he threw Mycroft off himself and onto the floor before he jumped off the bed and walked over to him. Mycroft winced as he made to sit up but was stopped by Moriarty's shoe on his chest, pushing him back to the floor. He tried to sit up again but the shoe moved to his neck and pressed down roughly.

"What are you doing, James?" His eyes widened as the slightest amount of doubt flashed in his eyes.

"Maybe it was a mistake to come here. You're no fun anymore... You're are not pleased I'm here. You don't love me anymore. You don't love me. I didn't realise... I'm stupid. Stupid. Stupid!" Moriarty manically muttered to himself.

"What?" The man underneath his foot said, uncertain, while raising an eyebrow. Moriarty moved his foot and bent down on one knee, he leaned over and placed a rough kiss on his lips before hitting Mycroft in the side of the head with his reappearing gun. He was unconscious from the trauma in seconds. Moriarty tutted as he gazed at the unconscious man.

"I'm just a teensy bit disappointed in you, Mycroft." He muttered sadly as he stepped over the unaware man on the floor and walked to the door. It closed loudly with a:

_Click._

* * *

No idea what this is or where it came from... no it came from my head. I had an idea of Moriarty appearing before someone... Sherlock or Mycroft, like a monster or creature. It ended up being Mycroft and Post Myriarty. Just to scare them. Either way it turned into this. Hope you like it... Favourite, Review and etc... (If you want too that is) Thank you for reading. :)


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